kryptonite
TMF Poster
- Joined
- Jan 25, 2007
- Messages
- 112
- Points
- 0
My car broke down. I didn't know what part of the engine failed, but I did know it couldn't have happened at a more inconvenient time and place. I was taking a shortcut home from an unsuccessful business trip, driving through a torrential rain in the North Carolina mountains where my cell phone was useless. I cursed my luck, tried to outwait the sheets of water rushing over the roof of my car, but lost patience and decided to hike up the shoulder of the highway to the nearest hotel, at least fifteen miles away...fifteen miles up and down steep mountains. After covering a fifth of that distance, I grew weary, my clothes wet as Lake Superior. No motorist took pity on me, until a passing motorcyclist pulled over on the shoulder ahead of me and stopped, her engine idling.
I walked quickly up to her and explained the situation. She told me to hop on back, though she had no extra helmet. Gladly, I risked it, and soon we were traveling up and down the steep highway. I grasped onto her and hid my face behind her black leather jacket. She wore tight jeans, and strangely, I felt sexually excited. The cold wind chilled my wet body, making me shiver, and I feared getting hurt in a wreck on the slick mountain roads; but she seemd to me a heroine, in control and a source of warmth--my lucky salvation. She kept the bike steady up and down the mountains, making me feel secure in her hands.
It was an early December dusk when we arrived at the Elkhart hotel--a small thirty room job. I got off the bike and thanked her. She nodded and looked me over.
"Hon, I'm about flat broke. Could you share a room?" she asked.
After the favor she'd just done, there was no way I could say no, though her request seemed pushy and it made me nervous. She cut the engine and slid off her bike, turning around to attach her helmet to her vehicle. The sight of her big ass, encased in wet, tight jeans, caused my cock to spring up.
We went into the hotel lobby and the hotel clerk, a big breasted, middle aged Indian woman with a red dot on her forehead, stared at the water dripping from my clothes. She didn't speak much English, but after a great deal of effort on my part, she understood I wanted a room, and she took my credit card.
The biker chick followed me to our room, the first door on the right, outside, next to the office. I turned on the light.
"Oops," I said. "There's only one bed. The clerk didn't understand English too good. I'll go back and get a two bed room."
"Forget it," the biker chick said. She gently pushed me forward. "Unless, you're some kind of fag, you should have no problem sharing a bed with me. Are you a fruit?"
"No, I'm willing," I said, a little unnerved at her aggressive attitude.
"Well, get out of them wet clothes. I always wanted to make it with a businessman. I'm tired of sucking off smelly biker boys. You've got a fine figure. Most of the guys I've been with have beer bellies to hell."
She turned on the heat at the window unit to high, while I hung my clothes over the shower curtain. I came out of the bathroom naked, rubbing myself with a towel. She had her jacket off, revealing a tattoo of a black widow spider on her upper left arm. I tried to hide my erection with the towel but she saw it.
"All right! You're ready."
"What's your name?" I asked as she approached me.
"Penny. I think I'll just call you ramrod because I want you to ramrod me."
She let her jeans drop, pulled off her sweater, unveiling a heavy, but not fat body. We embraced, kissed. I undid her bra and before I knew it I was ramrodding her on the bed, my forearm braced under the bottom of her thigh. I worried a little about venereal disease, but mostly, I thought of the fat fanny I was grabbing and squeezing.
Later, we ordered sub sandwiches delivered and watched tv, before I ramrodded her again. When we were done, she turned out the light, and I fell fast asleep, exhaused from the long drive and hike, and the more recent bed exertions. I woke up to the sound of a distinct clicking. I tried to roll over, but to my sudden panic found my wrists handcuffed together behind one of the bed posts.
"What, what're you doing?" I asked.
"You're under arrest," she said. "Just kidding. To tell the truth, I'm robbing you."
She cut the light on and looked through my wallet. She transferred my money and credit cards to her purse.
"Let me go," I said and I rattled the cuffs against the bed posts to no avail. I saw it wasn't dawn yet. She stared at me, a sleepy bemused look on her face.
"Oh, what the hell," she said. "I'll make this worth it for you."
She sat on my chest, her naked big ass inches from my chin.
"Are you gitchy?" she asked. "Gitchy, gitchy, goo."
She raked her fingers up and down my sides, forcing me to have another erection. I was terrified and furious and excited--an insane combination of feelings. I felt like a trapped animal.
"Stop! Let me go," I demanded, irrationally afraid that she might never stop tickling me.
"If you don't laugh, I'll let you go," she said, and she danced her fingers on my lower belly. "Don't laugh now."
Despite my anxiety and anger, I laughed silently, struggling not to make a sound.
"Don't laugh."
My back muscles burned from the strain of pulling against the restraints. I could feel myself on the verge of bursting out laughing. I tried to shift the laughter to under my breath.
"I think you're laughing."
She found the most sensitive area around my groin and tickled--an unbearable feeling. I couldn't control the loud laugh that broke through.
"You must secretly like it. Your laughing. You don't want me to let you go."
"No, please stop, let me go," I begged.
She stopped tickling me and rode my cock, while facing away from me, her ass cheeks bouncing up and down, the pussy suction bringing me to orgasm faster than I though possible because it was the third time in less than ten hours.
She dressed quickly, blew me a kiss, and left.
I heard her start her bike and ride away in the dawn's early light and knew it was no practical joke. I felt frustrated, afraid, and paranoid. What if she brought back a big biker boyfriend to torture and kill me? What if no one ever came and I died of thirst? But I knew these were irrational thoughts. I had to get free or the maid would find me, and probably call the police to free me, and then I'd have an embarrassing explanation--a woman tricked me, defeated me, dominated me.
So I tried everything to shake loose from the cuffs. I tried to squirm my wrists free, I tried to pull and break metal, but it was no use. I'd have to wait for the hotel cleaning service. Humiliating hours passed and finally, I heard the cleaning cart roll to the outside of the door. Then a knock.
"HELP! OPEN THE DOOR. I GOT ROBBED LAST NIGHT!" I yelled.
The door opened, and it was the big breasted Indian woman, the clerk from the night before.
"Oh Lord!" I thought. "She'll never understand."
Her face was expressionless, as if this kind of thing happened all the time. She hesitated, entered with the cleaning cart, and closed the door behind her.
"Can you get me loose? I got robbed last night," I repeated.
"You like?" she asked.
"What?...No, no, I don't like. Can you get help to get these cuffs off me?"
She approached me, a slight smile on her face.
"Some men like it."
This wasn't the reaction I expected, and I became even more nervous. My face flushed red. I tried not to have an erection again, but it moved slightly.
"She left me like this. She took my wallet and left."
The maid looked around.
"Yoo hoo! Biker lady. You have key?" she asked and she looked in the bathroom.
"I told you. She took my wallet and left. She's not here."
"But you like. I heard you laughing last night."
"She cuffed me when I fell asleep. Then she tickled me. I didn't like," I said, mortified that she knew I was ticklish.
"No, you like. You pay woman to tickle you, and she leave you like this 'cause you like it to be tickled."
"No, I don't like."
The maid stood at the side of the bed and waved her fingers over me. I noticed long, white fingernails. I dreaded those as if they were deadly weapons, and I flinched. She dropped them and tickled my vulnerable midsection, her fingers furiously flailing like an insane concert pianist. I thrashed, tried desperately not to laugh. My erection unwillingly returned. She stopped and I took a breath. She pointed at my penis.
"See, I think you like. You excited and laugh."
"No, I don't like."
She waved her fingers over me again.
"No, don't, don't please don't."
She ignored my pleas and resumed tickling me, and it felt more unbearable than any of Penny's attacks. I laughed, a helpless whimpering laugh.
"Let me go, stop," I begged between giggles.
"Just a minute. You need satisfaction."
She took her blouse off, undid her bra. Her big boobs bounced out. She leaned over and rubbed my penis between her boobs. I came, yellow sunshine squirting on her cleavage. She wiped herself off with a towel and flung it in the cart.
"I find key. We may have. Happens to couples sometimes that their key doesn't work."
She looked through her cleaning cart and did indeed have a handcuff key that worked. She freed me, put on her bra and blouse, and began cleaning the room.
I walked quickly up to her and explained the situation. She told me to hop on back, though she had no extra helmet. Gladly, I risked it, and soon we were traveling up and down the steep highway. I grasped onto her and hid my face behind her black leather jacket. She wore tight jeans, and strangely, I felt sexually excited. The cold wind chilled my wet body, making me shiver, and I feared getting hurt in a wreck on the slick mountain roads; but she seemd to me a heroine, in control and a source of warmth--my lucky salvation. She kept the bike steady up and down the mountains, making me feel secure in her hands.
It was an early December dusk when we arrived at the Elkhart hotel--a small thirty room job. I got off the bike and thanked her. She nodded and looked me over.
"Hon, I'm about flat broke. Could you share a room?" she asked.
After the favor she'd just done, there was no way I could say no, though her request seemed pushy and it made me nervous. She cut the engine and slid off her bike, turning around to attach her helmet to her vehicle. The sight of her big ass, encased in wet, tight jeans, caused my cock to spring up.
We went into the hotel lobby and the hotel clerk, a big breasted, middle aged Indian woman with a red dot on her forehead, stared at the water dripping from my clothes. She didn't speak much English, but after a great deal of effort on my part, she understood I wanted a room, and she took my credit card.
The biker chick followed me to our room, the first door on the right, outside, next to the office. I turned on the light.
"Oops," I said. "There's only one bed. The clerk didn't understand English too good. I'll go back and get a two bed room."
"Forget it," the biker chick said. She gently pushed me forward. "Unless, you're some kind of fag, you should have no problem sharing a bed with me. Are you a fruit?"
"No, I'm willing," I said, a little unnerved at her aggressive attitude.
"Well, get out of them wet clothes. I always wanted to make it with a businessman. I'm tired of sucking off smelly biker boys. You've got a fine figure. Most of the guys I've been with have beer bellies to hell."
She turned on the heat at the window unit to high, while I hung my clothes over the shower curtain. I came out of the bathroom naked, rubbing myself with a towel. She had her jacket off, revealing a tattoo of a black widow spider on her upper left arm. I tried to hide my erection with the towel but she saw it.
"All right! You're ready."
"What's your name?" I asked as she approached me.
"Penny. I think I'll just call you ramrod because I want you to ramrod me."
She let her jeans drop, pulled off her sweater, unveiling a heavy, but not fat body. We embraced, kissed. I undid her bra and before I knew it I was ramrodding her on the bed, my forearm braced under the bottom of her thigh. I worried a little about venereal disease, but mostly, I thought of the fat fanny I was grabbing and squeezing.
Later, we ordered sub sandwiches delivered and watched tv, before I ramrodded her again. When we were done, she turned out the light, and I fell fast asleep, exhaused from the long drive and hike, and the more recent bed exertions. I woke up to the sound of a distinct clicking. I tried to roll over, but to my sudden panic found my wrists handcuffed together behind one of the bed posts.
"What, what're you doing?" I asked.
"You're under arrest," she said. "Just kidding. To tell the truth, I'm robbing you."
She cut the light on and looked through my wallet. She transferred my money and credit cards to her purse.
"Let me go," I said and I rattled the cuffs against the bed posts to no avail. I saw it wasn't dawn yet. She stared at me, a sleepy bemused look on her face.
"Oh, what the hell," she said. "I'll make this worth it for you."
She sat on my chest, her naked big ass inches from my chin.
"Are you gitchy?" she asked. "Gitchy, gitchy, goo."
She raked her fingers up and down my sides, forcing me to have another erection. I was terrified and furious and excited--an insane combination of feelings. I felt like a trapped animal.
"Stop! Let me go," I demanded, irrationally afraid that she might never stop tickling me.
"If you don't laugh, I'll let you go," she said, and she danced her fingers on my lower belly. "Don't laugh now."
Despite my anxiety and anger, I laughed silently, struggling not to make a sound.
"Don't laugh."
My back muscles burned from the strain of pulling against the restraints. I could feel myself on the verge of bursting out laughing. I tried to shift the laughter to under my breath.
"I think you're laughing."
She found the most sensitive area around my groin and tickled--an unbearable feeling. I couldn't control the loud laugh that broke through.
"You must secretly like it. Your laughing. You don't want me to let you go."
"No, please stop, let me go," I begged.
She stopped tickling me and rode my cock, while facing away from me, her ass cheeks bouncing up and down, the pussy suction bringing me to orgasm faster than I though possible because it was the third time in less than ten hours.
She dressed quickly, blew me a kiss, and left.
I heard her start her bike and ride away in the dawn's early light and knew it was no practical joke. I felt frustrated, afraid, and paranoid. What if she brought back a big biker boyfriend to torture and kill me? What if no one ever came and I died of thirst? But I knew these were irrational thoughts. I had to get free or the maid would find me, and probably call the police to free me, and then I'd have an embarrassing explanation--a woman tricked me, defeated me, dominated me.
So I tried everything to shake loose from the cuffs. I tried to squirm my wrists free, I tried to pull and break metal, but it was no use. I'd have to wait for the hotel cleaning service. Humiliating hours passed and finally, I heard the cleaning cart roll to the outside of the door. Then a knock.
"HELP! OPEN THE DOOR. I GOT ROBBED LAST NIGHT!" I yelled.
The door opened, and it was the big breasted Indian woman, the clerk from the night before.
"Oh Lord!" I thought. "She'll never understand."
Her face was expressionless, as if this kind of thing happened all the time. She hesitated, entered with the cleaning cart, and closed the door behind her.
"Can you get me loose? I got robbed last night," I repeated.
"You like?" she asked.
"What?...No, no, I don't like. Can you get help to get these cuffs off me?"
She approached me, a slight smile on her face.
"Some men like it."
This wasn't the reaction I expected, and I became even more nervous. My face flushed red. I tried not to have an erection again, but it moved slightly.
"She left me like this. She took my wallet and left."
The maid looked around.
"Yoo hoo! Biker lady. You have key?" she asked and she looked in the bathroom.
"I told you. She took my wallet and left. She's not here."
"But you like. I heard you laughing last night."
"She cuffed me when I fell asleep. Then she tickled me. I didn't like," I said, mortified that she knew I was ticklish.
"No, you like. You pay woman to tickle you, and she leave you like this 'cause you like it to be tickled."
"No, I don't like."
The maid stood at the side of the bed and waved her fingers over me. I noticed long, white fingernails. I dreaded those as if they were deadly weapons, and I flinched. She dropped them and tickled my vulnerable midsection, her fingers furiously flailing like an insane concert pianist. I thrashed, tried desperately not to laugh. My erection unwillingly returned. She stopped and I took a breath. She pointed at my penis.
"See, I think you like. You excited and laugh."
"No, I don't like."
She waved her fingers over me again.
"No, don't, don't please don't."
She ignored my pleas and resumed tickling me, and it felt more unbearable than any of Penny's attacks. I laughed, a helpless whimpering laugh.
"Let me go, stop," I begged between giggles.
"Just a minute. You need satisfaction."
She took her blouse off, undid her bra. Her big boobs bounced out. She leaned over and rubbed my penis between her boobs. I came, yellow sunshine squirting on her cleavage. She wiped herself off with a towel and flung it in the cart.
"I find key. We may have. Happens to couples sometimes that their key doesn't work."
She looked through her cleaning cart and did indeed have a handcuff key that worked. She freed me, put on her bra and blouse, and began cleaning the room.
